Cruel

by Raven Kennedy

  “To ask your neighbor to borrow his phone.”

  “...Why? If your phone died, you can use mine.”

  “And have your info show up when I call? No. I’m gonna keep you out of my mess.”

  He dropped it, and I headed out into the hall. I knocked on the next door over, and a bleary eyed college dude answered it wearing only his boxers and a backwards baseball cap. “Hey…?” he said, his expression obvious that he wasn’t sure if he should remember me or not. Probably from one too many one night stands.

  “Hey. I got locked out of my apartment,” I said, letting the lie easily slip off my tongue. “Could I borrow your phone?”

  He eyed me, paying particular close attention to my nipples that were showing through the overly large shirt. “Sure.”

  Leaving the door open, he let me follow him inside. I waited in the messy living room while he disappeared into the bedroom. He returned a few seconds later with his cell.

  I punched in my mama’s number, and she answered on the third ring. “Principal Livingston.”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  I wandered over to the kitchen, trying to avoid the guy’s curious stare, and I heard my mama sigh into the phone.

  “Scarlett, where are you? Rogue Kelly called me last night from your phone. I thought you were on the outs still?”

  “I was. I am,” I corrected myself.

  “Well? What happened?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t want to get into it right now. I just wanted to call to let you know I’ll be home later.”

  “Scarlett—”

  “Gotta go.” I hung up before she could say anything else, and handed the phone back to the guy. “Thanks.”

  “I thought you locked yourself out of your apartment,” he said.

  “What?”

  He looked at me curiously. “You said you were locked out.”

  “Oh. Right. My roommate let me know where the spare was. I’m good. Thanks again,” I said with a wave.

  I made my way towards the door, with him on my heels. “Hey, if you’re looking for a good time—”

  “I’m not,” I quickly said.

  “Well, if you change your mind—”

  “Thanks for letting me use your phone,” I cut him off again, but tempered it with a friendly smile. “I really appreciate it.”

  I was out the door and across the hall, letting myself into Clay’s place again before the guy could reply.

  Clay hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, but he was smoking a joint and playing video games when I went back in.

  “I got some chick clothes in the bottom drawer of my dresser,” he said without looking away from the TV.

  I snorted. “Why do you have chick clothes?”

  He smirked. “Sometimes they like to leave momentos.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Gross. I am not wearing your hump bunny’s underwear.”

  “Prude,” he joked. “But I’m pretty sure there’s some other stuff, too.”

  I headed into his bedroom and dug through the drawer. Sure enough, I found enough things to make a decent outfit. They were wrinkled, but they were better than wearing Luis's stuff. I left the panties in the drawer, though.

  I pulled on the borrowed jeans and crop top. The jeans were tight and a bit too short, but I just cuffed the bottom of the legs and reminded myself not to bend over too quickly. The shirt was tight too, but at least without a bra, it helped hold up my breasts.

  “You have enough clothes in that drawer for a good three outfits,” I said as I walked back out and sat on the couch beside him.

  He looked over appraisingly and gave a nod like I’d passed a test. “Ah. Good old Last Month Crop Top and Tuesday Tight Jeans,” he said with a smirk. “I remember them well.”

  I smacked him on the arm playfully. “Seriously. What are these chicks wearing when they leave?”

  “I never notice, but then I realize my hoodies are always missing,” Clay said with a frown. “What is it with chicks and stealing guys’ hoodies?”

  I just laughed. “They’re comfy.”

  “Fucking thieves, the lot of you.”

  “What happened to Mr. Feminist?”

  He shrugged as he beat on his controller. “Just callin’ it like I see it, Livingston.”

  Our laughter was cut short when there was a loud bang on the door, making me jump. “Scarlett? I know you’re in there. Get the fuck out here now!”

  My face drained of color, and my eyes widened.

  Rogue.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Clay asked, jumping up from the couch. He automatically went on the defense, grabbing the baseball bat he kept near his front door for such occasions, and went to open the door. I was impressed at his response time, considering he was completely stoned. Guess you had to be prepared when you kept thousands of dollars worth of weed in your apartment.

  “Wait!” I screamed before squeezing my eyes shut. And when I closed them, I saw Rogue, back on the property behind his house with a knife in his hand. But instead of the strange man at his feet, it was Clay. “Don’t open it!” I hissed.

  Clay looked at me. I mean really looked at me. He leaned closer, cupping my cheek with his palm before whispering softly. “You got them running eyes, Scarlett.” Just as he said that, the door was kicked open, and Rogue stormed through the splintered wood that littered the floor. I flinched, and Clay positioned me behind him, puffing out his chest as he assessed the new threat.

  “Who are you?” Rogue asked while eyeing Clay with scrutiny. I stared at him over Clay’s shoulder and noticed that he was still wearing the clothes from last night and had deep circles under his eyes.

  I didn’t have to see Clay’s face to know that he was wearing an incredulous expression. “Who am I?” he asked before holding the baseball bat up and pointing it at Rogue’s chin. “Who the fuck are you?” You walked in, scaring Scarlett and busting down my door. I suggest you get the fuck out of my apartment before I bash your brains in. Is this who you were running from last night, Scarlett?” he asked me briefly before directing his attention back to Rogue, who looked so angry and tense, I knew he’d break any moment. Clay had no idea who he was dealing with.

  I placed my hand on Clay’s shoulder, pushing ever so slightly so that he’d lower the baseball bat, but he didn’t budge. Rogue’s eyes zeroed in on where my hand touched Clay’s shoulder, and they grew incredibly dark. He was furious.

  “Scarlett. We’re leaving. Now,” Rogue ordered, authority seeping through every syllable as he stared shamelessly at me.

  “Fuck you. She isn’t going anywhere with you, asshole,” Clay countered.

  Rogue was ready to attack him, and I couldn’t let Clay get hurt for trying to protect me. I hurriedly sidestepped Clay and moved between them. I didn’t want my only friend in this fucked up town to get hurt because of me. “It’s okay, Clay.”

  He immediately shifted the bat to one hand and then used his free one to push back on my stomach, his fingers splaying out over my bare skin, barely covered by the crop top.

  At that move, Rogue lost it. He grabbed the bat from Clay’s hand and swiftly flipped it so that the handle was in his strong grip. He didn’t give Clay a moment’s notice. He single-handedly winded back, acting like he was about to bash Clay’s skull in, but stopped right before he connected the metal with his right temple.

  “Scar, you and I both know what I’m capable of. Say goodbye to your pathetic little boyfriend and get in the fucking car that you stole after you left my house last night,” Rogue ordered, and it didn’t escape me how he worded that statement. The implications of where I was all night were written all over his expressive, but hardened face.

  Clay tore his eyes from the metal baseball bat just centimeters from hitting his face, and snapped his attention at me. “Drinking beers and stealing cars? You really have gone off the deep end,” he joked, breaking through the tension. Clay was good in a confrontation. He could defend himself, but he was
n’t ruled by aggression.

  I broke out in a wide grin, and Clay and I shared a short but friendly stare before Rogue growled, bringing us back to the present.

  “Geez, relax,” I snapped at Rogue. I turned back to Clay. “I need to get home anyways,” I said with a shrug. I figured if I pretended this was no big deal, maybe I could trick my body into not feeling the anxiety surging through my system, and Clay’s red flags would lower.

  “Scarlett, are you sure?” he asked, eyeing Rogue warily. “I don’t feel comfortable letting you go with him. I mean, dude clearly has anger problems,” he said, gesturing towards the splintered door frame. “Who's gonna pay to get my door fixed?”

  I knew that Clayton Hammond was more than able to afford having his own damn door fixed, but I still looked expectantly at Rogue.

  “Well?” I asked with irritation.

  “Well, what?” Rogue spat.

  “Pay the man for his door, Hulk. It’s the least you can do.”

  Rogue cursed under his breath, but reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple hundred dollar bills, tossing them on the ground. “Let’s go, Scarlett.”

  Clay once again looked at me. “You sure about going with him?”

  I nodded. “He looks scary, but it’s not like he’s a serial killer or anything,” I said with a smirk. Taunting Rogue was an addictive, dangerous game. “I’ll explain later, okay? Call you tonight.”

  Clay nodded before squeezing my arm in friendly reassurance. “If you’re sure.”

  I walked past him, giving him a little wave. “Thanks for last night,” I said shooting him a wink over my shoulder.

  My teasing insinuation made Clay laugh. Rogue wasn’t amused. He snatched my arm and began pulling me through the busted doorway and down the stairs before I could catch my breath. Still barefoot, my feet scraped against the metal steps and the concrete as Rogue dragged me toward the road.

  “You’re hurting me,” I snapped, trying to yank my arm away, but he refused to let go. If anything, he only tightened his hold.

  On the other side of the gate, I saw that the SUV from last night was gone, and Rogue’s Range Rover was idling at the curb. The three silhouettes that I could see through the backseat windows let me know that the rest of the guys were waiting inside.

  “Get your ass in the car,” Rogue said, yanking the door open and all but tossing me inside.

  “Shit,” I hissed as I was flung against the leather seat. Rogue barely gave me enough time to pull my feet in before he was slamming the door shut behind me.

  Stalking around the front of the car, he settled into the driver’s seat and sped away, his face in a furious mask and his driving faster than usual.

  “Somebody’s in a whole lot of trouble,” Luis taunted from the backseat.

  I adjusted the vents on the AC to blow at my face. I was nervous as hell, but I didn’t want to let them see me sweat.

  “You a snitch, Scar?” Bonham asked. “That why you ran? To go tattle on us?”

  I snorted under my breath and refused to answer, keeping my face turned toward the window.

  “He asked you a question,” Rogue said, his voice low and violent.

  “And I’m refusing to answer,” I snapped back.

  I felt every single one of them go still.

  “That a yes, Scarlett? You rat us out?” Luis asked.

  “That’s a refusal to answer, because if I deny it, you won’t believe me, and if I admit it, I’m dead.”

  “You’re fucking right about that,” Rogue spat.

  We spent the rest of the drive in silence. My anxiety clawed at me. Here I was, once again, at the mercy of the Heirs and their unending hatred of me. Maybe I deserved it this time, and maybe I didn’t, but regardless, it was my reality.

  When we got to Rogue’s house, it was Bonham who hopped out first and came to my door. Nobody else moved until he successfully hauled me out of the car. I couldn’t help but smirk at the way Rogue stayed glued to his seat and slipped his keys securely into his pocket.

  Rogue’s house was sparkling clean inside. There was zero trace of a party ever happening here, thanks to the maid’s hard work. His parents weren’t home, of course. They never were. Always away on business or travelling, leaving their eighteen-year-old son to fend for himself.

  Bonham didn’t let go of me until I was dumped onto the couch in the living room, and then I had all four of them staring down at me, arms crossed and faces grim.

  “Talk.”

  The order came from Rogue, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from lifting to his. “What do you want me to say?”

  He took a step forward until his shoes hit my toes. “Don’t fucking test me.”

  “Fine. I’ll talk,” I snapped. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

  He narrowed his eyes when I pushed to my feet, but I didn’t care. The anxiety, the troubled dreams from last night, the hell from this last year, it was all too much. It all came to a head yesterday, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I took a deep breath and levelled my gaze on him. “You were my best friends, but you dumped me like yesterday’s trash. You ruined me at school. You tormented me. You let everyone else torment me. And then, you got what you wanted. You made it so even my own mama didn’t want me around. So you won. I’m being shipped off. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? Because then you went and humiliated me one last time for your own sick pleasure. The guys I knew would never have treated me like that.”

  I felt the burning behind my eyes, but I wouldn’t cry. “You know, I shouldn’t even be surprised that you murdered that man. If you four are capable of doing what you did to me, then this really shouldn’t be a shock.”

  With my eyes still locked on Rogue, I caught the flash of emotion cross his face before he could stop it. It was there for a fraction of a second, but the sight of it pulled me up short.

  Pulling his mask back into place, he used his body to intimidate me by wrapping a hand around my neck again, reminding me of last night—of how easily he could cut off my breath.

  “We’re not interested in listening to your dear diary entries,” he said cruelly. “Why did you leave, who the fuck did you talk to, and what were you doing in that apartment?”

  I ground my teeth together. “I’m not your friend. That’s why I left,” I snapped. “I won’t ever follow you again.”

  The grip on my neck tightened, and I knew he was going to add to the light marks that were already there.

  “I didn’t tell,” I went on. “Not that you’ll believe me, but that’s the truth. I’m probably a fucking idiot, but I didn’t tell a soul.”

  Rogue studied me, his face only inches from mine, and I forced myself to steel my spine and not lean into his touch. I didn’t let myself breathe in his scent or allow my eyes to soften.

  “Last question, Scar,” he said, so low I almost missed it.

  For a second, I had to remember what it was. “What I was doing in that apartment is none of your business.”

  Maybe it was stupid to continue to taunt him with the possibility that I fucked Clayton Hammond, but after everything they’d done to me, I didn’t want to give that up.

  If it was possible, Rogue tensed even more, and his eyes darkened with anger.

  “Out.”

  The word was spoken at the same, even tone, but it carried weight. I heard the others instantly retreat, their footsteps fading away from us. I couldn’t see anything but Rogue, though. He blocked out everything else from view, just the way he preferred.

  When we were alone, he tilted my head back, making me feel even more vulnerable. “You fuck him?”

  “What do you think?” I retorted.

  He leaned in slowly, until his mouth almost pressed against my ear. “I think that if he so much as touched you, I’ll fucking kill him.”

  With that, Rogue dropped his hand from my neck, making me stagger on my feet before I could catch myself.

  “Don’t you dare threaten him,” I said, s
tepping back into his space. I didn’t care that I was a good head shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than him. I wouldn’t stand for Clay being hurt.

  “I don’t make threats, Scar. I’m telling you what’s gonna happen.”

  “Why do you care?” I asked with exasperation, flinging my arms out. “You threw me away!”

  “Exactly. And no one else gets to pick you back up.”

  I stared at him incredulously. “You are so fucked in the head.”

  He shrugged unapologetically. “Get upstairs in the guest room and stay there. You aren’t allowed to leave until I say. Try to defy me, and you won’t like what happens.”

  Without another word, Rogue turned on his heel and strode away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I paced the floors like a maniac, shuffling my feet against the plush carpet of the guest room that Rogue Kelly locked me in. I mulled over all of the things that had happened over the past couple of days, clenching the reality of my situation in my fist and then pulling at my hair when I realized just how fucked I was.

  And then I grabbed a pillow, shoved it over my face, and screamed.

  I pushed all of the shit that I’d been bottling up in my chest past my vocal chords, and belted out my frustrations. I screamed until my throat hurt. I screamed for the months of abuse, neglect, and torture. I screamed because at the end of it all, I still wanted them.

  A knock on the door drug me out of my self pity, and I cringed when I realized I had an audience for my unhinged episode. I tossed the pillow down before turning to face the person who’d entered my prison.

  Okay, now I was being melodramatic.

  “Sounds like you could use some hot tea,” Bonham said while walking inside the room. He was carrying a tray, looking all domestic as he eyed me suspiciously.

  “Did you drug it?” I asked. Maybe he was sent up here to put me to sleep. I hated how distrusting I was of them.

  “You do look like you could use some sleep,” Bonham said with a shrug, not even denying the possibility of something being slipped in my drink.

  I sat on the plush bed, balling my fists in my lap while trying to calm my pounding heart. “They would send the nice guy to interrogate me,” I said while rolling my eyes.